• • Short Stories
• April 13, 2025

The Angel of Death (Part III)

‘Don’t punish the innocent because of me!’ Azrael begs me.

You shouldn’t preach what you don’t practice, I tell her, and I pop my wings right out of my back.

I launch myself into the air with reckless abandon, ready to eviscerate anyone who gets in my way.

Above the skyscrapers of the city, it takes a moment to see where I should be headed. The tallest building in the city, Chicago’s own Dubai Tower or whatever the fuck its called, that’s where I’m going and it’s going to take mere sec-

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

‘Venatrix!’ Azrael screams into my head.

I know! I scream back and dive down to the buildings, away from the sudden power level I feel coming at me. It’s massive, it eclipses me and I’m considered planetary. I look over my shoulder at the blue beam bouncing back and forth around the sky before it starts heading towards me. 

“FUCK!” I scream as whatever it is, clearly saw me. 

‘Dive between the buildings!’ Azrael yells like I wasn’t already planning too!

I dive and the moment I’m between the skyscrapers the blue beam stops where I was, and lets its power pulsate. I barely outfly the pulse as skyscrapers fall apart around me like I’m in a disaster movie. 

What the hell is someone like that doing here?! This isn’t a universe built for that, it doesn’t have environments that can withstand planetary power levels crashing down on it, let alone this galactic one! The planet could collapse in on itself! Gravity could warp around the planet and take us all with it!

I fly between them but the pulses of power never seem to be too far way. I turn around and see that its right behind me, but the massive power level isn’t there. I feel the power level move right in front of me, moving faster than I can turn, eclipsing light speed. 

He holds his arm out and my head hits it. 

I go flying to the ground like a rock as I feel the power level lower significantly.

He’s going to toy with me, that’s what high power levels do when they’re hard pressed for worthwhile challenges.

My wings catch some of the wind and slow my descent, enough that while I hit the roof with a bang, it doesn’t collapse. Considering the force and speed I started with, that’s a fast slowdown. 

What doesn’t help is the dust all around me, I can’t see anything, and now that he’s powered down I can’t feel his energy.

Weapons.

I summon my handguns to me as I roll to my feet… 

Reload.

… and make sure they’re loaded.

Before I can even think about clearing the dust, I hear the swish of the wind and turn around to him, a shadowy outline behind it all. I can see the terran outline, a man with two arms and legs. The current generation of Regamorph and Cameloanian Guardians are female, and Rivertans are too short. 

This one’s human.

And judging by the white light coming from his eyes, with the red and black demonic energy come from him, I bet he’s a Guardian of Rage.

The wind blows, and the dust reveals a human Guardian, one that sends a shiver down my spine, and Azrael’s too. 

There’s one Guardian from every sentient race per universe, at least, in most universes, but with the multiverse there’s suddenly a lot more Guardians per race, and they look relatively similar.

Like all the human Guardians, who all have the same name of Clayton Knight, he hasmulatto skin. This one is average for ones of his name in height, barely over 6ft. 

What makes me nervous are his clothes and weapons that make him recognizable to anyone who’s spent time on Cornucopia. The cargo pants and the dress shirt under the combat vest aren’t all that telling, but pair that with the two katanas, one on his back and another on his hip, it narrows it down. 

The stupid black fedora guarantees it though.

Guardians need nicknames to tell each other apart, and he’s called Cap, one of Charisma, not Rage or Wisdom. His base power level fluctuates between continental, planetary, all the way to galactic on his best day, and he’s one of the Brotherhood. People call his trio the Spear of Hasan.

One of Hasan’s brood, trained by one of the Four Great Tyrants that rule Cornucopia and most of the multiverse at large.

I’ve seen him fight in tournaments, he’s entertaining, one of the more exciting warriors to watch. 

I once saw him cut a planet in half with the sword on his back.

‘You can’t take him,’ Azrael says in a hush, telling me what I already know.

With a clean shaven face and straight jawline, he smirks at me. He points at me with a huge Smith & Wesson revolver, one that could break a mortal man’s nose if he tried to use it with one hand, but Cap’s grip probably won’t even feel the recoil.

“I know you,” he says, dropping the smirk and putting on the thinking face. His gun nods as his head does. “Yeah, I do know you, I’ve seen you hanging around Smoak, right?” 

The growing shake of my gun and the grinding of my teeth give it away.

His kind don’t smile, they smirk, and that’s what he does as he lifts the revolver, pointing it away from me. “Calm down,” he tells me, “we don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.”

‘You don’t believe him do you?’ Azrael asks me, the trembling nerves coming in through her voice.

Of course not.

‘Your Archangel transformation isn’t fast enough.’

I know.

‘But you can get him with the Death glare.’

I know!

That shuts her up, but still leaves me with Cap.

He gestures towards me with an open hand, trying to having a conversation during a planet wide battle royale. He’s lording his power over me because he can power up faster than I can. He’s either really oblivious, a total dick, or just plain apathetic, maybe a mix of the three.

“I don’t much care why you’re here, I just thought recognized you, I got curious.”

“About what?” I ask as I don’t lower my gun. How I can trigger the Azrael Stare without him attacking me?

“Why risk it, hanging out with Smoak?” Cap asks as he looks away at the carnage around us. “You know who he comes from,” and he points up to the sky, “same guy who made me, doesn’t sound worth the risk.”

“Well,” I say, as I do my best to concentrate on the pressure behind my eyes, prepping the Azrael Stare to get him as soon as I can, “he’s nice for one…”

I feel something grab hold of what feels like another set of eyeballs behind my eyes, and Azrael tells me, ‘I’ll hold them for you.’ She keeps them at the ready, to get him while he’s looking away, taunting me to attack him…  

He must be.

“There are a lot of nice guys, or guys who can pretend to be nice,” Cap reckons, judging me for my friends. Who the hell is he? Why is everyone always giving their two cents about my life? “Smoak could get you killed.”

You know what, it may get me killed, horribly even, I’d rather be shot through the head then cut in half, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone talk down to me about who I’m friends with. 

“Oh shut up,” I tell him, and his eyes flash in surprise, “he’s my friend, he’s a nice guy who actually wants to help people, he doesn’t go around killing for the sake of killing like you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to you talk shit.”

Cap leans his head back along with his gun, amused and impressed, but you know, in a very condescending way. 

“I never said he wasn’t a good guy,” Cap says as he holds his hand in mock appeasement, “and I’m not trying to make it seem like I’m such a great guy… but you’re talking about me when we’re standing in the same place. 

“If I kill for the sake of killing… then what do you think you’re doing?”

I don’t care how much he or anyone thinks they make sense. I’m different, I’m funding a mission, that’s why I’m here. A mission for-

‘Vengeance, Venatrix,’ Azrael interrupts me, ‘which is killing for the sake another kill, not that far off.’

Shut up.

‘If you’re going to sit in judgment of everyone, try not to do it next to the window. Might get hit by a stone.’

I thought you were on my side.

‘In the pursuit of survival, yes, but ethics? If today has told us has anything, its that we’re both lacking a strong sense of ethics.’

Cap’s laughing interrupts the conversation going on in my head. 

“I see that you have a voice in your head too, I can relate to that, but word of advice…” and then his eyes shift to orange, and grow a white pattern over them, the Ojo Naranja, “when you’re trying to surprise attack someone, don’t let someone see the power behind your eyes.”

That’s the second time he makes a chill go down my spine. “You mean…” I barely sputter out.

“Drop whatever’s hiding behind your eyes, lady,” he warns me, and cements that I’m not going to do that, “I told you that we don’t need to-”

Click! 

Click!

Bang!

Me and him both pulled the trigger, only one of our guns fired.

His.

He aimed with his magic fucking revolver and blew my M9 to pieces, so last resort. He isn’t looking in my eyes but I have to try.

Azrael gives me her eyes and I try to-

Shiiiing.

SWWWWIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

He unsheathes his sword from his hip, and slashes towards my face, stopping right at my cheek, all faster than I can blink, as fast as I can blink. 

His body pulsates red energy, every vein and crevice blackened, and a black gaseous kind of electricity flowing from him. He powered up, unsheathed his sword, and brought it to my cheek, all faster than I can see, and my base is planetary. 

What kind of monster is he-

Clink.

FRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

My eyes slowly move over to the world to my right, as in a wide berth, every building for a mile out, as far as I can see, falls apart at the height his blade lies.

With his casual strength and power he leveled a city.

Everything collapses, everything falls and crumbles because of his one swing. But I’m still alive… and I can’t breath.

Then I look straight into his eyes, and find that he’s not dying.

He’s smiling.

“Your trick doesn’t work on someone whose undead,” he says, and around his lips I see the black veins and blackened gums. What kind of monster is he…?

His smile leaves his face, and his eyes look away as his lips start to turn back to a normal color. 

“I could have killed you,” he said, and with a slight nod he points out, “I could kill you right now and you wouldn’t even feel it, might be able to keep it a secret even…” I feel my heart beating in my chest, ready to burst out of my ribcage. I think I’m about to die of fright.
I’ve never faced someone like this before, someone so far out of my league. I thought I was a monster to people below my power level, but the difference between me and the Guardians I killed today… it doesn’t hold a candle to the different between me and this guy.

“… but…” he trails on, as he steps back, and pulls his sword away from me, “I know that an Angelkin might come back if you kill them… I don’t need Smoak coming for my head. Don’t exactly have the luxury of resurrection like you do.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding, and fall back flat on my ass. “Fuck…” I curse.

He chuckles and powers down as he sheathes his katana. “Yeah, I guess maybe having Smoak as a friend is a pretty good thing,” and with a shrug of his shoulders he admits, “what do I know?”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, as every breath I take is bigger and longer than the last. I think my shoulders are gonna hit my ears. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” Cap tells me, and brings his hand to his fedora to adjust, and tip it towards me even. “I wouldn’t hang out here very long, this is epicenter, so you’ll want to get going.” 

I feel defeated, broken. I’ve killed and worked hard to get where I am, then he comes here and ends it all for me. Making me turn back and-

“Get going,” he repeats, noticing that I’m lost in thought, and its sparks me to shake my head and try to gather myself back to together. I try to get up to my feet slowly when his hand is in my face, offering to help me up. 

I must have the most confused look on my face  when I look up at him smirking down at me. “You want to ask the big guy for a wish, right?” he asks me, and I get even more confused.

I’m speechless as he helps me to my feet, and absentmindedly point towards the sky to the big guy we’re talking about. He must not be scary to Cap.

‘He’s probably family.’

More important than that… 

“You’re not after what he has us all looking for?” I ask Cap.

“Nope,” he says, his voice cracking like he’s holding back a laugh, “I’m not after her, I got asked to do something else.” He steps away from me towards the edge of the roof, and as he turns his back on me, there’s a city still crumbling behind him. “This right here was just a side trip.”

He powers up, ascends as Guardians call it, first with red energy and black lightning, then ascends again to the blue energy he first used. 

He tips his hat to me again, and says, “Good luck,” before he flies up and out at the speed of light.

Then the wind blast hits me.

FLOOOOMMM!!!

I pop out the angel wings to catch myself, taking the momentum and letting it carry me in the opposite direction of the destruction, towards the tallest building. 

‘We’re alive!’ Azrael nearly cheers as I stay under the skyscrapers, not risking another sighting.

I correct her, “I’m alive,” but I can’t muster the bite that I want. 

My heart is calmer but it’s still beating pretty hard in my chest. That encounter with Cap took more out of me than the fight with three weaker Guardians and their daemon.

As I fly towards Chicago’s tallest building, I find myself thinking back to all the times I watched him fight. It never felt real through a TV screen. In real life it’s terrifying to be near the kind of person who lives in an action movie. 

More than that, I’ve finally met one of the Brotherhood, the Hasan’s inner circle, and I doesn’t feel like a good thing. 

To torture Azrael, to get back into the rhythm and scare the scaredy cat in me, I ask her if she wants to hear something terrifying.

‘Of course I don’t, I didn’t think beings like him existed, beings who act like mortal men and have the power to kill God.’

So I’ll take that as a yes then, and I hear Azrael groan.

I remind her, Cap is considered mid-tier among the Brotherhood.

I feel Azrael move a distance away. I hope it dawns on her that maybe she’s not one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse like she says. I hope it’s a real blow to her ego, reminding her that she’s not as big as she thought she was. None of us are as big as we think we are, that’s something I’m sure everybody is learning today. 

The small Guardians weren’t as big as me, I wasn’t as big as Cap, and I bet Cap knows he’s not as big as Hasan. 

I hope Hasan knows anyone bigger than him.

‘You want to hear something scary?’ Azrael asks me. 

This feels more like a petty comeback, so I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. Tell me.

‘Smoak is supposed to be stronger than Cap.’

Shit.

Maybe Jetta was right, I should sleep with him.

‘My lord,’ Azrael groans as we approach the tallest building in the city. ‘We’re talking about protecting ourselves from the most dangerous predators in the multiverse, and you’re making sex jokes?’

Saying things that bother you is therapeutic for me. I mean this in all seriousness, your unhappiness calms me.

Even as I admit that to her, my heart is still drumming in my chest.

And even that isn’t helping me right now. I almost got beheaded by a man who casually cuts a city in half, I need to crack some jokes or I may start crying, I admit to her as I fly up the side of the building.

‘You could focus on saving that woman’s child,’ she says, and I ignore her as I head towards the top floor. ‘I know you hate me, and you have every reason to,’ she goes on and on as I fly faster, ‘but don’t punish someone because of me.’

That’s not what I’m doing, I tell her when I reach the last floor, looking at my own reflection in the one way glass. I look like shit, my hair wildly sticking out in random places all over my head and my jacket has a nice rip that starts in my shoulder. I turn and see how it goes down my back. 

“Huh,” I must have been in shock to miss the huge cut on my back. Maybe it’s all the power I’ve been slowly summoning.

Oh well. 

CRESH!!

I break through the window, and sucking my wings in, making sure to catch pieces of glass between the feathers to give Azrael a nice sting. 

I’m not punishing someone because of you, I’m not letting you punish me.

‘Then explain the glass!’ she screams.

Okay, that was me punishing you.

The place is dark, and from the outside it looked pretty wide. I’m gonna have to do some searching for the light switch, and then some searching for whatever that atom looking thing was.

You know, it’s funny how Azrael’s eyes let me see souls from orbit, but they don’t let me see in the dark. You’d think in my line of work I’d have gotten more used to it, but no. 

I take a few steps forward and almost immediately bang my hip on a desk.

“Fuck,” I curse. I don’t know what it is, but stubbing your toe or banging your hip on office furniture is worse than being stabbed.

‘No it isn’t,’ Azrael says, so petty. 

I think I spend more time than I want to admit searching for the light switch, and like per usual my mind wanders.

Guardians usually are what my mind always come to, I’m around them pretty often and they’re the only consistent kind of mortal who can keep up with angels and daemons. It makes sense that they would interest me.

But they confuse me.

“Ah,” I interrupt my own thoughts, “here’s the light.”

I turn it on and its a pretty normal office space. The three desks in here must have had nothing on it, but when I turned on the lights the holographic screens came on. Definitely the future. Nice to know that in the future, colors may change but we all really stay the same. 

I go to the nearest door, see if I can find anything that can help me sort through this mess.

The door is locked, and since it’s a sliding door its not going to open on its own. Time to do that cool thing I’ve seen action heroes do in the movies. 

I punch it…

BAM!

… but like with a swing, not a jab, catching it on my knuckles. The door goes down, but I realize why you’re not supposed to copy movies.

‘It hurts doesn’t it?’

More than that, I got a fucking rug burn on my knuckle. There’s not a scratch on the glove but somehow I still feel the burn.

I flick it my hand as I enter the room and reach for the light switch. You know, I probably shouldn’t call it a switch, it’s more of a button.

When the lights go on, I see only one big desk, with full and complete bookcases, frames full of degrees, and one lamp desk with a few pictures. Something tells me the three desks behind me were the secretaries.

‘Anything else?’ she asks, hoping to get more information on what I’m seeing.

I tell her, Shut up, the Guardian is gone, don’t think we’re suddenly friendly with each other again. 

I just hear her sigh as I walk into the room, looking for a clue on where to go. I mean what are the odds that this person would have a…

…well, well.

‘What?’

Shut up.

I don’t find a map, but I do find the nameplate on top of the desk. I walk over to pick it up, and find one Dr. Amora Song. I guess that shouldn’t be surprising, she had to have some hand in this place. 

Wait, that’s not ‘Dr.’ on the plate, that’s ‘Dir.’ for director. Why the hell would the director of this place bring her kid here? What, was it bring your kid to work day? I thought those were just sick jokes they use for sitcoms.

Also, this office is really small for a director, like this would be small for a CEO.

‘How would you know? Tell me, how would you know?’

I will give you that one.

I put them back and the different degrees catch my eye. Something physics, something to do with quantum mechanics, theoretical physics is one I know, and… genetics. How the hell does a scientist have so many degrees? What is she, Iron Man? And one of them is genetic? A scientist having degrees in genetics and literally anything else is never a good sign.

Oh look it’s… dated… did they always do that?

‘Are you actually asking me?’

No, I’m asking myself, someone actually worth talking to.

And to myself I wonder if its good or bad the Genetics diploma was 7 years ago. 

‘Her girl from the memory she blasted us with didn’t look much older than that.’

Great, nice to know she spent more time studying than with her own kid, maybe to study said kid. Another woman ready to compete for worst mother ever, I tell Azrael as I start walking back out of the office.

‘You’re not the worst mother ever, Venatrix, you didn’t even get the chance,’ she tries to tell me, misreading me in her attempt to sound nice.

You’re right, and that’s your fault, I make sure to rub in one more time, but the memory it drudges up makes hard to enjoy the guilt I know Azrael feels. 

Yesterday, I knew pretty much nothing about when I was alive the first time. Now I know I was pregnant when I died and… 

‘What is it Venatrix?’

I stop before the next door, dipping my head in my own sorrows at the realization of all I’ve lost… and I learned it all from just one little memory. 

“I don’t even know if my kid survived, I don’t know even know if I had a boy or girl, do I have a son, or a daughter… no idea.”

‘Venatrix, I-’

“But you do, asshole, you do get to know all that,” I stop her before she tries to get ahead, and take a step closer to the door.

It automatically slides open. 

“You know, I don’t know which is weirder,” I tell myself as I walk through, entering an elevator room that has paths going around them, “how exactly the Guardians have not destroyed this planet yet, or how the fuck this building still has electricity.”

‘Well, the building can have an underground generator.’

Do you have an explanation to the former?

‘More Guardians have killed each other than we thought?’ she offers, not actually having an educated answer.

Thanks for nothing, I say in my head, and I feel the anger spark from her. 

I walk around the elevator to a hallway that doesn’t look ominous at all. It’s an all glass bridge that connects to what looks like a group of rooms suspended over a lab. 

‘What kind of place are we walking into?’

A bad 90s B-movie’s idea of a scientist’s laboratory.

I walk over it, and there’s something out of place about it. There are a lot of dead bodies, like a dozen across the lab, scientists and security alike. 

I use Azrael’s eyes, but the souls have passed on. That’s unusual, especially for violent deaths. Somehow I doubt they all went to the Underworld, they were claimed, but what could they have done that got them claimed by Heaven or Hell and not their director?

I can’t shake the thought as I get to the door, and Azrael continues to give her unwelcome two bits. ‘You may not know this, it hasn’t come up, but Heaven and Hell don’t only claim the virtuous and sinful of the multiverse, they can claim their victims too.’

I stop pulling back my hand to knock the door down, when I realize for once I may actually need to listen to her. 

Elaborate.

‘A victim of someone acting out of virtue or sin can be dragged to Heaven or Hell, the realms of the afterlife don’t work perfectly, especially when they operate for most of the multiverse.’

Are you telling me, that getting killed by someone in a fit of rage, killed for someone’s greed, or I don’t know, getting blue balled to death can decide where they go?

‘Heaven and Hell are realms with natural working forces, they can’t be expected to work right all the time.’

Sounds like a bullshit excuse from one of the admins.

Then I punch the wall.

Zap!

I’m electrocuted and hit with the strength I punched the wall with. I don’t really know that for sure, but I can assume by the fact that I’m sent flying across the whole glass bridge. Good thing I didn’t hit it harder.

“Okay, lets try this again,” I grumble to myself as I get back up and stomp over to the door. I pull my shotgun off my back and pool it with light magic, or energy, or whichever I’m calling it today.

‘You’re not very consistent on that,’ she comments, annoying me I might add, ‘and I wouldn’t recommend shooting a defense mechanism that deflects energy with more energy.’

“This is magical energy,” I tell her as I aim down the iron sights, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

BAM!

It was not fine.

Zap!

This time I go flying all the way into the elevator.

BANG!

“Oww,” I groan as I slump down against it.

‘I told you.’

“Shut up!” I yell as I climb back to my feet, and yes, I do stomp back up to the door. This time, of course, I don’t hit it again.

Now, clearly this door is so well protected, and what I want is behind it… just how do I get in… 

How would Dr. or Dir. Song get in? 

It takes less than a moment to find the keypad, but it needs a password. I’m lucky this thing uses English. 

“How the hell am I supposed to know the password?!” I yell up at the sky. I should have read that dead soul’s mind for this! 

‘If you had swore to save her daughter she may have told you,’ Azrael tries to rub in my face, but I’m not having it.

Maybe if she hadn’t tried to be a lying, secretive-keeping bitch, I might have said I’d save her.

God, instead of giving me all of these hallucinations and memories she could have told me the password to the damn door. I sure as hell would have saved her daughter then. 

Jesus Christ, if I got her and found myself unable to open it I’d have left the damn brat here!

No, instead I got some memories of what I’m not looking for, like I don’t have enough of those already. What use is it to have a memory of her daughter and that atom thingy? What use is…

If its her daughter’s name I’m going to fucking flip a table.

‘Do you know what her daughter’s name is?’ Azrael asks honestly, no sarcasm or anything.

I have to put my mind to work to remember it. The sounds are the hardest thing to remember, it usually just turns into a garbled mess of the mind. I’ve found that memories have facts linked to them. You just know something from this memory because you were thinking about it or it was taught to you. Maybe in that moment you understood a word or concept better than any other time in your life.

When Dir. Amora Song was looking at the little girl, she knew more than anything else in that moment, that she was Erica Song.

So I type her name into the keypad.

DENIED.

“Fuck,” I groan. 

‘Try Atom, but in Chinese,’ Azrael suggest.

Do I look like I know Chinese?

‘Try Yuánzǐ.’

Wait, aren’t there multiple Chinese languages?

‘Yes, try Yuánzǐ.’

I type it in, wondering how the fuck this other white lady knows Chinese.

ACCESS GRANTED. STAND BACK.

“The hell?” I curse. 

‘Something mythological seemed like a better password than her daughter’s name,’ Azrael whispers, sounding surprised even though she’s the one who figured it out. 

“That’s incredibly stupid though!” I go on, as the locks and bindings on the wall start to pull out. “Making the password the name of the experiment, I thought these people were geniuses?” I still go on as the door opens. “I mean, how stupid can you be to…”

I stop talking as I look inside the room, and do not see the device or experiment. Instead, I see four pink walks, a bed covered in unicorns, and a little goth girl playing on her phone on the bed.

We stare at each other blankly for a few seconds.

‘Why would anyone leave the things they love the most where monsters can touch them?’ Those were the asinine, self-absorbed words that Azrael said, but it seems to make sense.

I awkwardly smile and wave my hand at her, saying, “Hi, Erica.”

She stares at me for a few seconds, with this dark dye in her hair, black eyeshadow, black lipstick, everything black, and she’s a few years older than the memory Dir. Song gave to me. She’s deep into her rebellious phase right now.

“How do you know my name?” she asks with no fear or apprehension. She even rolls her feet off to the side of the bed. 

When she stands, she’s not short, she has to be almost a teenager right now.

I walk slowly into the room, and take a complete gander of it. It’s completely against every vibe this girl sets off, like what the hell is pink, unicorns, and fluffy pillows doing in a goth girl’s room? Did nobody update the room for this poor girl?

She walks around her bed and looks up at me. “Are you dead?” she asks. “How do you know my name?”

Oh, oh this is going to be hard. 

“Um, your, uh, your mom… she told me, Venatrix,” I told her, introducing myself like a freak while trying to figure out how to tell her that her mom is dead. I can’t imagine losing a parent, literally because I don’t remember mine, but it has to be something painful I assume. “She sent me here to get you.”

Erica arches her brow, and looks rather confused at me. “My mom?” she questions, which I feel shouldn’t be a question. Why would her mom asking me to come get her be strange.

“Um, yeah, your mom,” I say this time with more confusion than apprehension, “Dr. Song, Amora Song, she said she was your mother.”

The moment Erica rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, I can tell there was more to the story. 

Erica assures me, “The Director isn’t my mom, no matter how much she likes to tell people that.” She turns away from me, her eyes trying to hide this distaste and hate by pointing it at the ground. “Moms don’t take kids from other adults and claim them as their own, Moms don’t experiment on you and try to control your personality.”

‘She clearly hasn’t been outside if she thinks that.’

“Moms are supposed to protect their kids,” Erica continues, and turns her head up at me, to match my eyes when she declares, “but she never cared about me.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to keep my own self-hate from consuming me whole. I’m about to talk to a motherless child now, not a monster or killer, a kid. 

I open my eyes and kneel down next to her, place my hand on her shoulder. “She may have been pretty shit about it, but even after she died, she asked me to come save you, begged me even.”

Erica’s eyes open wide, but I’m not sure which she’s more caught off guard by. The fact that Amora is dead, or the fact that she begged. 

“She… she did that for me? She’s really dead?” the little girl asks, but I don’t think she’s really looking for an answer as her arms hang at her side and she develops the fifty-yard stare.

“I’m sorry, she is and she did,” I tell her, but she isn’t listening. I move my hand behind her head and move to look at me. “She wanted you to live, Erica, but we can only do that if we leave.”

Erica takes an extra moment to process it, but not too long. She nods her head, and looks back up at me to say, “I understand.”

I smile. “Good girl.”

“I don’t need anything from here,” she says, and immediately tries to move around me, “let’s go.”

I grab her by the arm and say, “Slow down there, kiddo.” ‘Kiddo?’ What am I, a thirty year old man?

“Kiddo?” she repeats, “What are you? A dickless 40-year old hick?”

I like this kid.

“Yeah, sorry, I need get something first before we leave, a kind of experiment, or device of some kind.”

Erica turns and looks down at my grip on her arm. I didn’t realize it, but my grip around her small frame might be more than a little aggressive, even painful. I let go and apologize, “Sorry.”

Erica doesn’t tell me ‘it’s okay,’ instead she talks like I imagine her mother spoke to her. “You know this place is full of experiments right? Do you want to elaborate or something?”

‘What did she say? I haven’t felt you be embarrassed like this before.’

Shut up. And why is she using such big words?

‘She probably grew up in this lab. She’s smarter than you by osmosis alone.’

“It looks like an atom, I guess, it gives off energy, I need something like that.”

Erica’s head tilts her head back in recognition. She points down and tells me, “You’re talking about the A-particle, it’s a power source for this place. We can find it in the middle of the building, a couple floors down I think.” 

I smirk, finding it funny how Dir. Song put the device in the middle of the building but kept the girl at the very top. I bet she felt the same about these things as Azrael. 

‘Probably.’

Shut up.

I take Erica’s hand, “Thank you, now we go,” and I lead her out the door. We take a few steps before we have to stop, dead in our tracks.

“Well, isn’t it hindsight and her bitch sister karma.”

Oh, great, Shadow Mask, another fucking Guardian.

---

This short story follows a character who originated in an older short story, The Thrill of the Kill. Look forward to the next few parts! Check out the YouTube Channel for audio versions of one of our other short stories!